


Talking in the Rain

by Tea_Queen_2112



Series: The Maze and Hay Hideout. [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Edward Nygma has feelings, Gen, Lyle Bolton is a little bitch, Not Beta Read, Stalking, Tension, hahah....unless....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23553361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tea_Queen_2112/pseuds/Tea_Queen_2112
Summary: Edward is waiting on Jon to return home and an unexpected visitor calls at the hideout.
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma
Series: The Maze and Hay Hideout. [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605940
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	Talking in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Right lads. Sorry, it's been a while. Quarantine threw me for a fucking loop. I'm not sure this will be to anyone's taste but I was working on a fluffier one featuring Jervis, Harley And Ivy along with some other unexpected guests. I'm not sure if people would be interested in reading. Lemme know if you want that. As always enjoy. Please comment because they keep me going.

Precision and smart-looking were two of Edward’s favourite words in the entire English language. Both short and accurate terms with a mixture of elegance and grace all in one. If he had an ego he would use it to describe himself. Thankfully Edward Nygma didn’t have an ego. 

While often it referred to himself tonight those words had a different reason. 

For now, it describes his cane, which he was polishing into a high mirror shine. Something to curb his boredom. Without Jon in the hideout things felt a little lonely. The man should have been returned at least an hour ago. 

Jon had gotten this ridiculous idea in his head that somehow southern honey lemon tea was superior to the classic herbal green tea. A ridiculous idea in Edward’s humble opinion. While Jon’s choice was superior for hangovers it didn’t match up to the relaxation of a cup of green tea. He’d been so determined to prove his point that he’d gone out to the 24-hour shop to buy the materials needed for this experiment. 

Edward wouldn’t have had Jon go out considering the rising storm but Jon was as a stubborn as a mule. Acted like it too when it came to their tastes in food. 

So his plan was as follows. Polish and sharpen his equipment until Jon returned, prove he had the superior tastes, finish off his 2nd crossword of the day and then make an attempt to get some sleep if his brain would allow it. 

At least that had been the plan until a sharp knock at the door changed things. 

At first, he simply assumed it must have been a branch that had been blown against the door by the strong winds. At least that had been his running theory. A second knock happened, followed by a third. 

Eddie’s glance over to the kitchen clock confirmed his suspicion. A late caller on the doorstep. Then again if someone wanted to be let in they all knew where the spare key was hidden. It couldn’t be Jon back so soon, beside’s Jon had a key to get in. 

At 12:03 am this caller must-have business. Edward left his cane on the table, he’d work on finishing up later. The door, unfortunately, wasn’t equipped with a peephole. A simple solid wood door between Edward and whoever stood before him. He expected to find a drunk Joker back again to destroy the door they’d just managed to get replaced. 

He opened the door to a figure before him. A long grey coat hung off broad shoulders. A blue shirt with black slacks. From what Edward observed the caller was pristine. The light that shone above the door illuminated him from the top down. The hat on his head barely concealed his face, Edward scoping out every feature.

The man at the door looked like every other two-bit thug who’d walk in and out of Stonegate, minus the scars or facial hair. In fact for the average Joe, he was rather well kept, hair cut perfectly. The one separation was the label on the pocket of his uniform. The white stitching embroidered onto a black label. 

Edward stepped back half a step.

“Lyle Bolton…” 

The man before him was almost a myth. A terror that resided in the halls of Arkham, terrifying those who dared look his way. The man was still technically employed by the Arkham guards but his days were numbered. They’d had the courtesy to let him have his two weeks notice before he’d been kicked out of those blackened iron gates. If Edward was correct Lyle should only have about 6 days left under the job title. He was ousted for abuse and borderline torture. 

Edward had never interacted with the man but Jon had. The stories Jon had told almost made the man seem inhuman. An abomination in a guard’s clothing. 

“Hey, Eddie. That’s your name, right? Eddie Nygma.” The man’s accent was thick. Regional for sure but Edward couldn’t decipher from where. Ed glanced back to his cane. It was still lying on the kitchen table where he’d left it. 

The man was close enough that Eddie could smell the cheap cologne he wore. Also to observe the smaller details. The crinkles that were few and far between, that jacket that looked brand new. The only thing that stood between Lyle’s appearance and professional perfection was the rain pouring down on him. It was almost pitiful seeing him drenched. Either he’d been walking a long time or he’d been waiting outside. Either way, Edward was keeping himself guarded. 

“What is the reason for your visit?” He stated it clinically. Lyle looked down on Eddie, towering over him. 

“I wanna see how your little friend is doing on the outside. May I come inside?” Lyle gestured to the darkened sky and water lodged gutter piping. Even the world's worst storm wouldn’t convince Edward to let the man inside. The whole situation was unusual and Edward could calculate that Mr Bolton had a 96% chance of harbouring ill intent. 

Lyle attempted to move closer but Eddie pushed the door back, not breaking the eye contact between them.

“You can’t come onto this property. I have no one else here. Now, please it’s late, I have a book and am about to go to bed.” Edward said. He wouldn’t risk turning around to look at the door, knowing Harley and Ivy lay sleeping less than six meters away. 

Eddie attempted to close the door but he should have known that it wouldn’t work. A thick black shoe wedged its way in between the door and the wall. Lyle’s hand curling its way around the door frame, pulling it back with ease. Eddie’s insistent pulling didn’t even register with the guard. 

Edward calculated that if Lyle did want to break in there would be nothing to stop him. Reluctantly, he admitted the power ball was resting in Bolton's hand. Eddie had the body mass of a twig and could be snapped like one too. He’d have a 55% chance of winning an altercation with the guard and that was only under the circumstance that he could get to his cane in time. Swordsmanship was an essential part of Edward’s skill set, not much use without his cane sword to help him. 

Since Lyle could force his way into the house the prince of puzzles had to turn the tables. If he got the tiniest hint of others in the house the game would end. Besides Eddie rather liked his current home and he’d rather not have it be exposed. 

Two things were keeping him from doing so. The first was that his no-killing rule. He’d extended it to civilians as a professional courtesy and to break his own rule was akin to the most biblical type of heresy. Reason #2 was that he saw it as a challenge. A smart man used class and manipulation over the brutish force. A situation resolved without force was the best path for all. 

Edward moved out of the house and out onto the top of the steps in front of Lyle. As much as he hated the rain it was better than risking the exposure of their secret hideaway. Once more Edward asked him to leave. His tone filled with more conviction.

The corners of Lyle’s mouth turned up, a smirk forming on his face. A grin like those of the cat of Jervis’ books. 

“What are you gonna do? Call the police.” A snide and condescending voice. Lyle rested his hand on the handrail, cocking his head to the side. The metal almost bent under his iron-like grip. Edward prayed he wouldn’t be on the receiving end, not that he wasn’t used to it. 

“No. But I can call the Arkham ambulance. They’ll ask you what you’re doing here outside of work.” Eddie replied. In his mind, it was the best strategy. The threat was clear but still vague enough that Lyle shouldn’t overreact. He wouldn’t call them but Lyle would be led to the assumption that he had nothing to hide. 

A fraction of a second was all it took for Lyle’s face to darken. His square jaw was tensing, showing restraint for whatever he was considering doing. His grip on the handrail somehow became tighter. Hands clenching. 

Eddie’s teeth were unconsciously grinding together. Every bruise Jonathan had to suffer through was a result of the monster before him. A mere thug in an officer's clothing, that’s all. Then again in his experience, the two were mutually exclusive. The man before was as much a criminal as he was, if not worse. All Edward wanted to do was cause annoyances and prove he was the best. Lyle abused inmates to feel the rush of power. Their trembling beneath him felt wonderful. 

The power was undeniably attractive but Edward would never stoop to the level that Lyle had already sunk too. 

Edward swallowed his disgust and remained respectful. 

“Leave. This is my home, Bolton. If I knew where Jon was I would tell you. Or any other escapees for that matter.” 

Lyle folded his arms, the silver glint of a pistol handle, tucked firmly in his Arkham issued holster. Eddie saw the slightly raised eyebrow. The cogs must have been working in his head. He was on the right track of being able to convince him. 

“Well as you know it’s illegal to hold an Arkham escapee and well I have an idea that your straw man might be lurking about.”

That was all Edward needed to hear from him. Lyle’s theory was based on an assumption. Assumptions weren’t solid evidence. Edward smirked, knowing he learned what he needed to. 

“I was released from Arkham. I’m reformed, the forums are there in the drawer. Why on earth would I try and risk it all? Hiding Jon of all people. That straw bastard.” Edward wasn’t a good actor naturally but he could act dramatically. 

“Walking around the neighbourhood I coulda swore I saw Mr Crane walking about the area. As you know he’s an escaped convict and all.” 

A spanner had been thrown into Edward’s thought process. Lyle did have some form of evidence, he was trying to trip him up to get him to unwittingly confirm his theory. Eddie was going to answer his question but as per usual his brain couldn’t allow it to be said normally. 

Something else bothered Edward. Lyle wouldn't be employed for much longer. What reason did he have for stalking the inmates now? Edward’s only deduction was that he was planning something. His fear for Jon, his sweet southern comfort. His darling Scarecrow. Jonathan Crane, his beloved. 

“I am what you see after Death. I am you before you were conceived. What am I?” The riddle was so easy even the likes of Bolton could figure it out. 

Lyle thought about it for a moment. 

“Nothin’.” 

“Which is exactly what I know about Jon,” Eddie remarked. 

The intensity between the two was like pure static electricity. His glare cutting through Bolton's unblinking stare.

“Huh...Y’know that’s funny,” Lyle said. The way Lyle spoke reminded him a lot of the Batman in many ways. That slow dry tone was woven within his voice, sardonic almost. Only this time he could see Lyle’s eyes. At least when facing the batman there was the luxury of him not looking real. Unfortunately, Bolton looked very, very real. 

His hand pretending to scratch his neck, pulling the shirt down by the collar. The rain gave him something to focus on despite its light irritation against his skin. 

“I’m friendly with the doctors and guards. Boys on the inside and all that yadda yadda. They were telling me how to handle him and the doctor on duty told me something. An interesting fact about the ex-doctor Crane.”

Edward raised his eyebrow.

“Surprisingly he said he never let anyone call him Jon. Anyone except good friends. How good friends are you with Jonny boy?” He’d whispered it dangerously close into Edward's ear. The man clearly had no sense of personal space. The insult of using Jon’s perfect name like that, from his lips it was like taking the lord's name in vain.

Still, Eddie wasn’t the least bit intimidated by him. 

“I call him that to annoy him. He drugs me and records me like I'm a lab rat. I’d hardly call that a friendship.” The words were spat out harshly. 

The climactic crash of thunder struck Gotham’s skyline. The lightning highlighting the side of Bolton’s face. With the look in Bolton’s eyes, Edward wished he’d just stayed inside the house. The man had such a look upon his face he was ready to squeeze Edward’s throat until he heard the crack of his neck. 

Despite the rapids of emotions he was feeling, one thing remained clear. He couldn’t so much as show a hint of affection. Bolton was like a gun and he didn’t need to give him ammunition. Anything that would result in pain for Jon. Men like Bolton hurt people via first and second-hand methods. Jon didn’t deserve any more suffering. Not by the fists of Batman or Bolton. If Bolton was boasting about his connections then things could go down an ugly path.

“Is there anything else you’d like to ask or shall we both stay out here until we catch our deaths of the cold? Or would you prefer to possibly be struck down by lightning.”

He gruffed as he pulled his coat more around his shoulders. Both of them soaking wet and no reason to stay any longer. Lyle gave a huff before another bolt of lightning struck the city somewhere in the distance. Lyle looked around, the south where the lightning had struck.

“Well, I’ve asked what I had to ask. Sorry to disrupt your evening Mr Nygma. I’ll be seeing you around. If I’m lucky I won’t.”

The threat lingered in the air only for a second. “Likewise. Mr Bolton.”

Lyle sneered but otherwise kept silently to himself. With his back turned he walked away, leaving Edward on the wet stone steps. 

Edward didn’t dare move off the front until he saw Bolton get into his car and leave. Lyle pretended to not look back but Edward didn’t miss the side-eyed glances. Eddie looked around one last time before turning back into his own home.

The door locked shut with a mechanical click. Eddie did not feel fear at this moment. Not a single shred of fear was in his body. He felt rage like he’d been forced to swallow the pits of hell themselves. The hate that cascaded down him unmatched by any other villainous temper. Not the kind when the batman cheated his games and certainly not whenever he was thrown back into Arkham. 

The freezing rainwater that still soaked him to the bone couldn’t quell him. He didn’t even mind that he’d trekked water throughout the house. An awful habit he shouldn’t have broken. His mind rushing to do so many things at once. His brain was an overloaded computer trying to make it stop.

He must have been sitting at the table for longer than he’d thought. The door unlocked with the turn handle. Ed grabbing his cane only to hear the comforting sound of the key turning in the lock. 

Jon walking in through the door gave him more relief than a thousand victories over Batman. Eddie smiled as he heard an umbrella being shaken dry. At least one of them had been wise. 

“Eddie. I’m back from the store. Got you honey so you can see how superior honied tea actually is. Sorry, I took longer but the rain got too treacherous to drive in. I figured you’d have a panic attack if I put myself in danger.”

How he’d been praying to hear that voice this night. Driving home much later had unknowingly saved them. Jon finally walked down the hall into the open kitchen area. Jon stopped in his tracks the moment he laid eyes on Edward. By Jon’s confused stare he was about to get a talking to. The man threw down the shopping bags and was straight over. 

“Well I didn’t put myself in danger but you did,” Jon remarked. 

Ed would have said he was fine but a shiver rippled throughout his body. 

“Good lord Ed you’re frozen like a mailman in winter. You stay there, I'm getting you the towel.”

Eddie’s special towel was exactly what he needed right now. It had been designed specifically for him. The towels at Arkham felt like absolute hell for him. Their cheap fibres felt like small hooks digging into his skin and thus he’d developed an awful drip dry habit. Eventually, with a few small searches, the Dr had figured out what caused Ed the tactile issue and gifted him a fabric he was more comfortable with. 

Jon comforted him to no end. Physically of course but the mental relaxation that came with Jon’s actions made for a package deal. He came back with the towel in hand and wasted no time ruffling the gingers hair, moving down to his face and eventually dropping the towel on the floor as to stop them having to mop up. 

“Is everything okay? Why are you soaked to the bone?”

To tell him or not to tell him. That was the question. An impossible choice. 

The honest truth could frighten Jon. The master of fear had very few phobias of his own but Lyle had been a recurring one. Besides Ed had more than enough reason to believe that the man was stalking them and wasn’t going to add fuel to this bonfire. To what extent was the question and for how long. How long had those eyes been watching their home, watching Jon’s comings and goings?

Edward wouldn’t allow it to happen. 

On the opposite side of the coin...

He could lie. Lie straight to the face of the man he claimed to love. Lying only beget more lies, the lies would dissolve their trust like burning acid. Not all at once but the corrosion would kill it over time. In return, Jon would have ignorance. A word that Edward loathed almost as much as his father. In this case, however, he applied it to the old saying of ‘ignorance is bliss’. No possible reason to give Jon more reason to panic then he already was. Logically speaking.

Ed remembered last week well. The day that Jon escaped from Arkham and came back with the biggest of grins upon his face. The whole day he remained chipper, whistling away as he played in his lab, even cooking for the two of them. When Ed had asked why he went to so much trouble Jon told him that his tormentor was being fired from the asylum. 

The memory merged with the present, Jon’s beaming smile replaced with his furrowed brow. Edward was back in the present, dripping wet onto the kitchen floor with Jon looking over him. 

“Littering, lack of planning and scorned lovers have it in common. What am I?” He sighed. 

Jon’s tut would have made Edward smirk. 

“You’re fine. That’s the second time I’ve heard you use that this week.”

Ed kept his lips sealed. 

“Did the lightning damage something outside?” 

Still no response from Ed.

Jon rubbed his hands on Eddie’s shoulders. The shoulder rub eased his body tension but he’d pay Jon anything for those fingers to work their magic on his temples. A lovely head rub would do him the world of good. Dealing with idiots did give him headaches, his brain was unable to cope with the dullards and simpletons. 

“Don’t make me a scorned lover with all these incessant questions.” 

Jon disapproved of Edward’s snapping. Edward had meant for it to be playful. Edward rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Did you panic while I was out? Is that why you’re in a mood?”

Jon had technically speaking hit the mark. Ed just deflected in the only way that he knew how. Being an absolute annoying prick. 

“I’m not in a mood to infantilized Jon. And I did not panic.”

Jon still had to work on curbing Edward’s bratty behaviour. Edward pouting and folding his arms like he was a seven-year-old. 

“Honestly stop being a brat. It’s not a good look on that face. You are wet and cranky.” His tone was playful but verging dangerously close to the truth. With a kiss bestowed on Edward’s forehead, all sort of headache left his body. 

He couldn’t have Jon being mad at him if his plan was going to work 

“A yank only has 14. Only seldom are they used truthfully, many falsely used, for family or pleasure. A British gentleman may have 28. What am I?” 

“What?” 

“Holiday days.”

Jon had befuddlement written all over his face. His brown eyes widened with shock at Edward’s proposal. 

“You’re offering up a holiday? To where? Why so suddenly? Ed, darling, you are worrying me.”

“I just...need to be away from Gotham. I figured it would be impolite not to invite you with me given my...unprecedented feelings for you. I feel my brain has been thrashed about nonstop.” A half-truth. A couples holiday would do them both some good. It was just happening a little sooner than he’d hoped. 

“Are you serious Eddie? If this is a joke I swear I will kill you.”

Eddie gave a weak smile. “I’m serious. I want you to be with me. That’s all there is to it.” Edward saw Jon’s hand looking so lonely on the table. Placing his hand upon Jon’s. 

Jon placed his other hand on top of Ed’s. His eyes were still scanning his dripping ginger locks. Jon held so much love in his eyes. Neither of them had known the warmth of love growing up, a foreign concept to both normally but at this moment it was clear what they both felt. Deep-seated but more resilient than any stone. Looking at each other and finding an equal partner, the way they understood each other in a way no other person could. Their language just for them. 

“Get yourself in a hot shower. I don’t want you dying of pneumonia before our first holiday together. I’ll bring up results and we can look together once you’re dry. Poor thing.”

Jon brought up Edward’s hand up to his lips. Planting a warm kiss on the back of his hand. Edward’s heart overflowing at the sweet gesture. The man was an expert in fear but when it came to romantics he was a genius. 

“Perhaps later. I need the computer for something first.”

“Can’t it wait?” Jon asked. 

“No. Unfortunately, it can’t.”

“Business?” Jonathan questioned.

“Just need to put a hit on a stupid, brutish thug. That’s all.”


End file.
